


Murder of Crows

by Exile



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen, Multi, Other, silent hill au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exile/pseuds/Exile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor Odinson, a convicted murderer, is sentenced to life in prison. Loki Laufeyson, a regional police officer with a dark past who's working in a mad scramble to redemption, is assigned to transport the criminal to confinement within a well-established prison a few hours out of town. On the way, the two find themselves in the midst of trouble when the police cruiser crashes and they wake in the sinister town of Silent Hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder of Crows

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. This is my first work of fiction in a long, long while, so I apologize profoundly in advance. I was prompted to do a Silent Hill AU with Thor and Loki upon Tumblr, and thus, I have taken up the challenge. This will be a multi-chapter fic. Below is the introduction, but rest assured, it will pick up within the next segment. Thanks. 
> 
> -G.

Rain hits the windshield in a constant patter, the sound drowning out the faint music that played from the officer’s car radio. An oldie’s station is turned on, nothing particularly extraordinary, but the blond passenger in handcuffs who sits in the backseat could truly care less about the selection. A big, strong man with a troubled mind, the convict was more worried about the prison he was on his way to than the lyrics to “Don’t Wait Too Long,” by Frank Sinatra. He stared out the window for the majority of the drive, peering through the rain to a blurred forest of dark green deciduous and coniferous vegetation. No sunlight pierced the foliage, and beyond the edge of the road, a sinister darkness beckoned the not-murderer to come forth into its ominous embrace. The cruiser is travelling at a good 80 kilometres – precisely the speed limit – and for a four hour drive, they were making  _fantastic_  time.

Thor Odinson was no criminal, he knew, but he had been convicted for the murder of his girlfriend many weeks ago. Sif was a lovely girl who he had aimed to marry one day, but plans had been ruined the day of her death. Framed possibly by someone he knew, Thor seemed to be the only suspect capable of murdering his partner for he had a long history of violent anger, and she, a history of cheating. Ruled guilty by the court, he’d been sentenced life in prison for a crime he did not commit. Now, in the back of a police cruiser with a raven-haired officer driving, he was on his way to a patient death. Releasing a heavy sigh, the blond’s head bowed and he looked down to his wrists, of which silver handcuffs were clamped tightly upon. They moved with a rattle, and sensing movement in his back seat, the officer’s eyes flickered up to the rear-view mirror to take a look. Slender fingers ceased their tapping upon the steering wheel, and mindful of the road but checking back to the mirror every moment or two, he spoke for the first time since they had both gotten in the vehicle a good hour previous.

“You alright back there, big guy?”

An elegant brow rose subtly in curiosity, and Thor lifted his head. Green oculars met blue through the rear-view mirror, and for a moment they remained in near silence, the only sound being the pitter-patter of rain upon the windshield and the static filled radio that had now begun quietly playing  _The Beach Boys._ Loki Laufeyson, a regional officer hired to simply transport the convict from his previous holding centre to the prison, didn’t exactly expect any sort of eloquent response in return. A murderer rode in his backseat, and if he found even a scratch on the interior, there would be hell to pay. That was the type of person Loki was, after all. Uniform tight and fit perfectly to his form, with crisp edges, precise folds in the material, and hair neatly slicked back in a conserved fashion, the dark-haired driver held himself high with a certain dignity.

That uniform meant a whole lot to him, and even if his assignment of the day was to simply transport this male from one prison to the next, he would do so with the highest quality of work possible. Given he had a past that he wished to erase, and to redeem himself from, the police officer took a high level of seriousness to his job. Each assignment was critical. Each convict, liar, thief, or vandals within his cruiser were also regarded with patience, yet intolerance for anything that went against the conduct Loki had been instructed to enforce. A large man himself in height, yet perhaps not musculature, the dark-haired officer was capable of using physical force within the job, but much preferred the use of his superior ability of linguistics to attain what he so desired.  Pleasant conversation was always fine, but was not always expected to occur, lest of all with the type of people he worked with.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” was the simple response from the rider, though hardly in a polite tone.

The blond leaned back in his seat, handcuffs coming to rest upon his lap, and he scoffed lightly. What type of question was that? He was fine as someone could be when about to go to prison for the remainder of their lives, at least. Staring hard into the mirror in hopes of deterring the officer from asking any more questions or speaking to him in general, a feeling of contentment swelled up within his chest when the other frowned and looked back to the road. The thought of requesting for another music station passed through his mind, but the passenger decided to say nothing in the end. So long as the officer kept busy with his god-awful music, at least he wouldn't have to talk to him. Thor had at least accepted the fact that he would never be getting out from prison – a man with no family, no chance of parole, or anyone who could gave a damn about him out in the world… he didn’t exactly have anything to lose. Whatever had once been important to Thor was now gone, ripped away from him in a way he could not have even possibly thought was possible.  Looking back to the window with lips drawn in a thin line, he peered outwards even as the rain began to grow heavier as they approached a bend in the road.

“Damn rain,” came muttered articulations from the driver’s seat, barely audible to the convict’s ears. “I can’t see a thing.”

Releasing a tiresome sigh, the blond rested his forearm against the edge leading up to the window, and then leaned his head upon it. Eyes closing, he merely listened in, not quite dozing off but not quite staying fully alert. Thor stayed like this for a long time as they drove on, the sound of wheels upon pavement beneath him and the onslaught of rain against the windshield eventually lulling him into a half-sleep state, of which the world seemed to grow quieter and duller. Muttering from the front seat started up again, and in his dream state, the blond could hear the sound of static coming from the radio and the shuffling of the officer’s uniform as he leaned forwards to try and regain his station. Paying no mind to the driver, on the opposite side of Thor’s visual bit of the road, they passed a sign to let one know that they were entering a settlement.  It was dimly lit and went unnoticed by the officer who had his head down, and similarly, was ignored by the convict in the backseat who rested his eyes.

The rain had become a heavy onslaught, hammering hard against his windshield to make the road hardly visible if not only for the few meager feet the headlights illuminated. Loki would have considered pulling off to the side of the road to wait out the conditions, but given they were on time and he had a history of perfect scheduling to keep up, the officer could hardly imagine wasting that precious time away; never mind the fact that his company was hardly sociable, and the thought of having to remain idle at the side of the road for even ten minutes with the blond was a vexatious thought indeed. For now, the dark-haired one’s main hindrance to his otherwise pleasant mood was his lack of music. As someone who enjoyed listening to either classical or oldies upon each of his jobs, the officer would become increasingly agitated the longer one of his favourite quiet pleasures while driving was absent. The static of the radio hurts his ears. There are broken sounds emitting from the speakers, perhaps bits and pieces of other stations being picked up, but otherwise the station he’d been fixated upon was nowhere to be received.

Loki, having given up on trying to fix the radio, flicked it off with an irritable grumble. His skull raises from the slight depression he’d lowered it to in order to gain a visual upon the malfunctioning machinery upon his dashboard; for a generous helping of time, he’d been focused upon the wrong aspect of the drive.  Eyes came back to focus on the road after such a long moment, and widened in horror once he realized what lay in his cruiser’s close wake.

There, in the middle of the road, stood a skeletal deer. Head hoisted high, and eyes glowing a bright yellow in the headlights, it poised unwavering in the middle of the officer’s lane. Swerving aggressively to avoid the dark figure, the driver hit the brakes hard while steering, only to begin hydroplaning near immediately upon the slippery road. The rear end of the vehicle clips the figure of the animal, yet there is no thud of impact; unbeknownst to the driver, the false image has faded away back into oblivion. Panicked, Loki tries with all his skill to steer out of the swerve, but the effort is well wasted. Thor, jolted wide awake now due to the thrashing of the vehicle, grips on with white knuckles to the inside handle upon the door with his wrists still handcuffed together. Vivid blues have snapped open from their rest and now look to the pristinely clad officer in the driver’s seat, heartbeat rocketing up as adrenaline pumps through his bloodstream. Odinson wills the police escort to maneuver out of the careening motion, but there is a thought, a known fate within fractions of seconds that they have, that this feat will not end well.

Officer and prisoner have merely a split second to brace themselves for impact into the guardrail before the front end barrels over top. Tires screeching and metal crunching in a cacophony of horrible, twisted sounds, they plunge over the side of the road to descend down a slippery slope. Laufeyson hits the front of his head against the steering wheel as the front tires land hard upon the ground, the airbag deploys, yet he will not remember anything more than that. Thrown about within seats, held down merely by the fabric of their seatbelts, murderer and officer finally slam to an abrupt halt as the front of the police cruiser disastrously collides with the base of a rather large tree below.  

 

 

 


End file.
